By Stephen Chambers
The August Offensive used to be born out of the mess ups of the Gallipoli landings and the next battles of past due spring and early summer time 1915. normal Sir Ian Hamilton, Commander-in-Chief of the Mediterranean Expeditionary strength, selected to play all his final playing cards during this bold and inventive gamble that he was hoping might eventually flip the tide within the allies desire and convey his military up onto the heights overlooking the elusive Dardanelles.
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Bombs—how I loathe the name—are only little things, about the size of a small jam tin, but they do the work of the devil. However, we hung on, and the position is still ours. I am certain if some of those who shirk could just set their eyes on some of those bodies, as they rot under the sun’s rays, they would come along. By the periscope we could distinguish some of them, but for the most part they lay in a huddled mass. It is certain death to attempt to get to them to bury them, and so they lie there.
They were evidently not accustomed to shell-fire, and at first were rather scared, but soon reassured when we told them where to stand in safety. Each carried in addition to his rifle a Kukri, a heavy, sharp knife, shaped something like a reaping-hook, though with a curve not quite so pronounced. It was carried in a leather case, and was as keen as a razor. I believe the Gurkhas’ particular delight is to use it in lopping off arms at the shoulder-joint. As events turned out we were to see a good deal of these little chaps, and to appreciate their fighting qualities.
Of earth. Running out towards our lines were huge tunnels in which they sheltered during the artillery fire. We just simply had to draw them out. Dead and wounded were simply packed under these coverings. 30 we were establishing a new firing line, building up one of their support trenches with sandbags, etc. Bombs—how I loathe the name—are only little things, about the size of a small jam tin, but they do the work of the devil. However, we hung on, and the position is still ours. I am certain if some of those who shirk could just set their eyes on some of those bodies, as they rot under the sun’s rays, they would come along.